Harry Potter and the Hogwarts Rift
by Illyich
Summary: Harry Potter's 6th year features a strange circular romance; the arrival of Viktor Krum at Hogwarts, who is repeating his 7th year, and a growing rift in the student body that can no longer be ignored. Reviews are appreciated.
1. Chapter I

Author's Note: I did not create Harry Potter or the 'Potterverse.' Also, it would be important to note that the dates have shifted a few years in this story. This, Harry's sixth year, takes place from 2002 to 2003. There's a reason for this, but it's not really important. You should also know that this book goes on the canon established in the first five books. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter I: An Agreement of Sorts**

Harry Potter sat on his small bed in his room at Number 4 Privet Drive. This summer, though just as sweltering and boring as the others, was somehow different. He wasn't quite sure why. The Dursleys still made him do all the yardwork and dishes. He still had to do his own laundry and he was still not allowed the use of the family computer (or the one in Dudley's room). Still, something felt different.

He had mused on the subject at length, shut up in his room. He lay motionless for several hours at a time on his bed, the lights off, the curtains drawn. He had worked out a schedule so that he wouldn't have to see his aunt, uncle, or cousin for more than a few moments a day. In fact, he hadn't even said a word to him or had one said to him in over a week.

Usually, the Dursleys would talk amongst themselves about what Harry had messed up that day. Usually they claimed he had missed a spot on Aunt Petunia's favorite glass or didn't edge properly when vacuuming. A few times, he had been accused of 'stepping too hard' on the grass when weeding the garden. Once, when he was nine, Dudley had thrown a shoe at him and the object had mysteriously reversed course in mid-flight, returning to strike Dudley square in the nose.

Vernon had scolded Harry for 'being so unkempt that the shoe refused to touch him.' Knowing what had actually happened, as he knew now, made the insult insignificant.

Now, they didn't talk about him at all. He began to feel like a ghost, but caught himself and remembered that the ghosts at Hogwarts were, at the very least, acknowledged.

Of course, the main reason that Harry was spending so much time thinking about the Dursleys' attitude was because it kept him from thinking about Sirius. As hard as he tried to concentrate on other things, however, his mind always wandered in that direction.

He stood up suddenly, not wanting to think about his departed godfather. Hedwig gave a surprised hoot.

"Calm down, girl," Harry said.

Hedwig stretched her wings, perhaps to show that she _was_ calm.

"Hungry?"

She hooted in response.

"Me too," he said, realizing he hadn't eaten that day. He hadn't eaten more than a meal a day all summer, and he felt a little guilty at what Mrs. Weasley would say if she found that out.

He cracked the door open, listening carefully to the sounds of the house to determine where everyone was. The television was on, which meant his uncle was watching the news. The washer was running, which meant Petunia had started the first load and was hard at work on the stains of Dudley's clothes. Finally, he heard the sound of a gunshot from the computer next door, followed by a string of explatives, meaning Dudley had died in a video game and was blaming it on the computer instead of himself. Soon, he would rumble down the stairs demanding a brand new system that could keep up with his gaming prowess.

Harry quietly made his way into the hall and down the stairs. When he entered the kitchen, he heard Petunia scream from the adjoining laundry room.

"I haven't even touched anything yet!" Harry protested, spinning around to face her. When he did, he noticed a mouse skittering across the floor.

"VERNON!" Petunia roared, "WHY DON'T WE HAVE A CAT?!"

"BECAUSE I HATE THE FILTHY LAYABOUTS!" he shouted back.

Thinking quickly, Harry grabbed an empty Tupperware container from the counter and dove, trapping the mouse underneath a clear plastic dome.

"VERNON, A MOUSE JUST KNOCKED OVER OUR – oh," Petunia said, coming into the kitchen to see what had fallen. "It's _you_."

"You're welcome," Harry said, standing up and grabbing a paper towel.

"Welcome? I had just washed that!" she shrieked, pointing at the container on the floor.

"I'll buy you a new one," Harry replied hotly.

Vernon laughed derisively and waddled into the kitchen.

"See there, Petunia? Don't get worked up, he'll buy us a new one!" Vernon said sarcastically. He rounded on Harry. "And where, exactly, do you plan to get the money, boy? You don't have a job!"

"Harry's getting a job?" Dudley asked loudly from upstairs. His thundering descent of the stairs shook the house.

"Of course!" Vernon said to his son, his sarcastic tone back. "Just look at him, he's got plenty of marketable skills! Why, there's his... er..."

Harry rolled his eyes. His aunt whimpered. "I think it's still _moving_," she whispered, her eyes still on the trapped rodent.

"He could be a hair model for Grundling Weed-whackers," Dudley offered. Vernon roared with laughter. Petunia took a step away from the Tupperware.

Harry could feel his face growing red and stooped to slide the paper towel underneath the plastic cage.

"Come on, now, boy," Vernon said, enjoying the scene far too much. "You said you're going to buy her a new one! How will you make the money?"

Harry couldn't resist. He rose and drew his wand, trying to hide the excitement that washed over him at their reaction – they all took a step back and the laughter died from their faces at once. Petunia even looked up.

"You want me to _make_ some money?," Harry asked kindly.

It was a tense moment. Vernon was the first to act, stepping valiantly in front of his wife. Dudley, equally valiant, stepped behind his monther.

"That's enough, now, boy," Vernon said, sweat beading on his forehead. "We've all had a little laugh here, but clearly it's too much for you. Go to your room."

Harry realized he still hadn't eaten. His uncle was a very imposing man, and he was weighing the options. His hunger won out, and he decided to test exactly how terrified of his magic they were. He turned his back on Vernon and opened the refrigerator, rummaging for leftovers.

"Wha... what do you think you're doing, boy?" Vernon asked.

"I'm getting something to eat so I don't starve to death," Harry answered, still not facing his uncle. He made himself a plate of ham and potatoes and started it in the microwave.

It was strange. He had faced the most feared man in the wizarding world several times and yet he was still terrified of his uncle.

There was another tense moment. Again, Vernon was the first to speak. "Petunia, dear," he said quietly, "it's a nice summer evening. Why don't you take Dudders out for some ice cream?"

"Vernon, what are you--"

"The shop closes in a half hour," he said. "You should hurry."

Petunia seemed to get the point. She led Dudley out of the room and, after Harry heard the door close and the car start up outside, he heard Vernon advance over the soft humming of the microwave. Harry should have turned around to face him, but he wanted Vernon to know he wasn't afraid of him.

Harry also saw that his hands were shaking and busied them by wrapping the ham back in foil so as not to spoil the illusion of fearlessness.

"I suppose you think that you're invincible with your... _stick_ and your fellow freaks," his uncle said. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, boy." Harry turned to face him. "I know you're not grateful for us putting a roof over your head and giving you food these past sixteen years, and I know that you whine to those so-called adults that we're unfair. If you want to have all your little freak buddies try and intimidate me after I've wasted money driving to the train station, that's one thing. But I will not, I _will not_ have you disobeying me in my house."

There was so much Harry wanted to respond with. He wanted to tell his uncle that he'd rather live with Snape, or that he would continue disobeying however often he felt like it, or even that he was only fifteen, as his birthday had not yet come around, but he didn't. He couldn't bring himself to.

"S... sorry, sir," Harry said.

The microwave chimed.

"Don't get any on your floor," Vernon said roughly, turning and walking away.

"Yes, sir," Harry responded. Then, before he could stop himself, he asked, "Uncle Vernon?"

The retreating man stopped in the doorway but did not turn around.

"Would it be alright if I wrote to my friends? Only at night, of course," he added quickly.

He heard Vernon exhale heavily. "By... by owls?"

"Yes, sir."

There was a long pause here, and Vernon's voice quivered slightly as he asked, "And you'll be writing to _all _of your friends, correct?"

Harry assumed he was referring to the members of the Order of the Phoenix who had spoken with Vernon a few weeks ago.

"Yes, sir."

"And your godfather too?"

Harry was grateful that Sirius had threatened his uncle a few years ago – it had been the only reason he was allowed to communicate with his friends over the summer. But now, Sirius was gone. Harry doubted that Vernon would still let him write to his friends if the threat was over...

"Of... of course," Harry replied, feeling horrible.

"You may receive and send letters between two and four in the morning. But keep those daft birds quiet, and if I spot a single owl dropping, you'll clean it with your tongue. Are we clear?"

"Of course, sir," Harry said, wondering how he could actually make sure the owls didn't make a mess. "Thank you, Uncle Vernon." His stomach gave a violent lurch and he retreated up the stairs, trying not to think of his departed godfather.

Harry let Hedwig out that night after feeding the mouse to her. "You eat well out there tonight, girl," he whispered to her. "You'll be doing a lot of flying soon enough."

Midnight found Harry writing feverishly. He had sent letters to both Ron and Hermione, telling them when he was allowed to receive mail and asking for any advice on making sure the owls didn't make a mess. He had also begged them for updates. Their summers much be so much more exciting than his, he figured. Ron lived in a wizarding household and could therefore get away with using a little magic over the summer. Hermione did not have that luxury, but at least she felt welcome in her home. Hedwig was sent out on a double delivery that night a few minutes after two and Harry tried to get some sleep despite his excitement.

* * *

A few days after, he had received replies from both Ron and Hermione via their owls. Hedwig had been back for some time, and as he opened the window at three in the morning to let Pigwidgeon soar semi-gracefully back toward the Weasley house, Harry still felt like writing.

For some reason, he recalled the conversation he had held with Luna at the end of the school year. He remembered her wandering around looking for her stolen possessions and he wondered how she stayed so calm about the whole thing. He certainly knew what it was like to be an outcast. He quickly scratched off a note to Luna, wondering exactly what the eccentric girl did with her summers.

_Luna_, he began. _I'm bored over the summer without magic and I wanted to make sure that you found everything of yours that was misplaced._

It was a simple enough introduction, but he soon found himself pouring out a letter almost as long as he had written to Ron or Hermione. His hand was beginning to cramp, but he ignored it. It would have several more days to rest up. He apologized over and over again for leading her into such a dangerous situation and thanked her for her loyalty. She had even saved his best friends life. _I really owe you one_, he finished. He signed it and sent the letter off with Hedwig, knowing it would somehow find its target.

It was several days before he received a reply, but as he expected, Hermione's came first, arriving at exactly two in the morning.

_Harry-_

_I'm sorry you have to spend the whole summer without practicing magic – maybe you can use the opportunity to study up on Arithmancy or Ancient Runes! Wandwork is only strengthened by a solid background of knowledge. It would do wonders for your potions, too! You see, all magic is interconnected, and..._

_Sorry. I know by this point Ronald would be asking me to stop talking. I'll digress there and instead tell you my big news! I've been given special permission by the Ministry of Magic to practice potion-making over the summer. My parents are letting me use the garage, and I've sound-proofed the whole thing so that they aren't worried by the little gurgles or bloops or explosions that are common in potionwork._

_I really think I'm onto something here – I stumbled upon a much quicker way to produce a memory-restoring potion. The accepted method takes two months and only works in 8.5791 of cases. I believe mine will be much more effective and should only take two weeks to brew! __The Daily Prophet__ is even running a story about it! Oh, Harry, I wish you could practice magic over the summer! It feels amazing knowing I'm not letting my studies go to waste for three months!_

_Write back soon!  
Hermione_

He hated to admit it, but he'd gladly practice potions if he could. Not being able to use magic over the summer would be making things boring even if the Dursleys weren't making him work 4 hours a day on chores.

Ron's letter arrived the next night. Apparently, Ron was bored as well – he spent most of his time either helping his mom or his twin brothers. He wasn't allowed to practice magic and fumed about Hermione being given permission from the ministry.

It was all very much like the other letters Ron had written to him, until the end. The end contained hope that Harry would be getting out of the Dursley residence on his birthday, and he almost gave a shout of glee before he remembered it was three in the morning.

He was so excited that he read it over and over again, and it wasn't until he felt an impatient peck on his arm that he noticed another owl had flown in his room through the open window.

"_Ow!_" he winced. The bird hopped onto his knee and stared into his eyes, cocking its head as if it were confused. It gave a loud hoot.

"Shh!" Harry said. The owl stuck out its leg to present him with another letter. After delivering the message, the black-feathered creature took flight and disappeared into the night sky.

The writing in the letter was tiny and very loopy. Even without the process of elimination or her signature at the bottom, there would have been no mistaking who had sent it.

_Harry! What a surprise!_

_Yes, I found everything. I told you I would. You shouldn't have worried. I didn't. Think nothing of my coming with you to the Ministry. After all, Ginny is a very nice girl. I knew she wouldn't have led me into danger, and she didn't. A few scrapes here and there are a small price to pay for a good time had by friends. I told Daddy what we saw there and he says that isn't even the half of what they're hiding. Did you know they have the last two surviving venom-toothed growlers in existence? A male and a female. Daddy says that Fudge threatens political rivals by saying he'll breed them. You'd think someone would do something about that. It's strange._

_Luna Mary Lovegood  
Member, Order of the Scholastic Owl Society of England_

Harry had no idea what either venom-toothed growlers or the Order of the Scholastic Owl Society of England were. He doubted either actually existed. Luna was a loyal friend of Ginny's, though, and he made a mental note to try and include her more. It was strange to think he might actually be able to help someone's popularity.

Before his letter-sending window closed, he dashed off a letter to Lupin saying he was fine and that he would be leaving on his birthday for Diagon Alley.

After sending Hedwig on his way, he lay down and had trouble drifting off to sleep again. Soon he would be in the other world again, among his kind. And school wouldn't be long after it.  
Harry was feeling better than he thought he'd ever feel at Privet Drive, though he was sure not to show it for fear that they might think he wasn't miserable enough. He did not enjoy the chores, but he certainly had something to look forward to almost every night. The letters were staggered now, and he kept in touch with Luna, Hermione, and Ron. He even sent a letter to Mrs. Weasley at the urging of his best friend, promising that he was eating well – which was no longer a lie. In fact, he had even been allowed seconds during the last few dinners. After he was allowed to communicate with his friends, he was feeling a little better.

It was beginning to feel as if this summer would be the most enjoyable so far. When July came around, he was given weekdays off from chore duty, as long as he agreed to pick up the slack on Saturday.

It was one such weekend that Harry found himself incredibly hungry. He had just come from the shower after working ten straight hours in the yard. The casserole that Petunia had baked was topped with golden-browned, bubbling cheese, and after Harry was allowed to serve himself, he happily dug in at the same time that a light tapping came from the kitchen window.  
Everyone turned to look at what had made the noise. There, on the windowsill, was a raven. Tied to its leg was a thick roll of parchment.

It looked to Harry expectantly.

Vernon also looked to Harry, his eyes bulging and his face turning red. "I THOUGHT YOU WERE PERFECTLY CLEAR, BOY!" he roared.  
"I don't know who it's from," Harry stammered. "I... I told all my friends that--"  
"JUST HURRY AND GET RID OF IT!"

Harry bounded to the window and in one movement had lifted it and swept the raven inside.  
"Get that bloody thing out of my kitchen!" Petunia squeaked. Harry removed the letter, mumbled that he was sorry, and sent the Raven back out into the sunset. To his surprise, the raven turned during its flight and soared back into the kitchen, landing on the counter.

Petunia shrieked. "What are you _doing_?" she demanded.

"I SAID GET RID OF IT, YOU RUDDY FREAK!" Vernon shouted.

Still, the raven looked to Harry expectantly.

"I think he wants to be paid," he said, cracking a smile.

"IT WANTS TO BE _WHAT?!_" Petunia asked, almost in hysterics.

"I'M NOT GOING TO BLOODY GIVE IT MY HARD-EARNED MONEY, BOY!" Vernon roared.

"Just stay still," Harry said, running up to his room. He opened his nightstand drawer and pulled a small drawstring bag. From it, he produced two knuts and bounded back downstairs and into the kitchen. "Here you go," Harry said softly, holding out the coins together.

The raven _cawed_ loudly, causing the Dursleys to flinch. They watched in silent shock as the raven accepted the two coins and flew back out the window. Harry shut the window and returned to the table. He looked up at his visibly shaken relatives.

"This looks good," he said honestly, lifting his fork and gesturing toward the large spoonful of casserole he had piled on his plate.

At that moment, the color that had drained from Vernon returned. He reached over, seized Harry's full plate, and flung it as hard as he could against the wall. It shattered with a crash and sent macaroni and mushrooms flying in all directions.

"It's too bad that you're not hungry," he spat.

It was Harry's turn to be shocked. He looked slowly from the splattered mess of food across the floor to his uncle. Then, knowing that it wouldn't be a good idea to push the purple-faced man any more at the moment, he stood and left the room.

"And get back down here when we're done so you can clean up the MESS YOU MADE!" Vernon shouted as Harry retreated up the stairs.

He felt awful after reading the letter. Lupin had berated him for sending out that sort of information by owl. It could have been intercepted, and there may be a whole squad of Death Eaters waiting for him in Diagon Alley. Using a raven, Lupin had said, was a more discreet way of getting information across. Hedwig was still fine to use, as long as no dangerous information was related, although to be safe, Harry would wait days before replying to any of his friends' letters.

He gave a sigh and stood. Four more weeks and he would be back at Diagon Alley. From there, he didn't know what would happen. And now, he couldn't write to Lupin and ask for details.

_I'll probably be sent back here, for my safety_, he thought angrily as he headed back downstairs and into the kitchen. The room was deserted now, save for Harry's smashed plate, his strewn-about supper, and what appeared to be another helping of casserole – the last in the pan – that Dudley had also thrown on the floor for Harry to clean.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II: The Leaky Cauldron**

Harry was no longer given weekdays off. The July heat was brutal, and although the brief rainstorm was welcome, it was over far too soon and the resulting humidity made working outside even worse. Not to mention that he would be shouted at for coming inside soaking wet.

During one such shouting match, Harry had asked if his aunt would rather him strip to nothing outside and _then_ come in. His cheek still burned when he thought about the resulting smack. For a fairly thin woman, she had a surprisingly strong arm. Not that Dudley would ever know that.

As the weeks wore on, time seemed to crawl by slower and slower. He was actually beginning to like the yard work – it kept him occupied between communicating with his friends and it kept his mind off his godfather, which was now always near the front of his thoughts.

On the day before his birthday, Harry returned from the garden, welcomed both by the smell of pot roast in the oven and a furious-looking Vernon. "You have company," he spat, though Harry noticed he was keeping his voice down. "I don't know what you told them, but you keep in mind what I told you last month. You're still under my roof and you will do as I say, so get in there and tell them whatever you need to tell her to get out!"

_Her?_ Harry thought. His heart leapt – maybe Hermione had actually visited. Maybe even Luna had found where he lived and arrived unannounced. He hurried into the living room, where he found Tonks sitting on the couch, sipping a cup of tea.

"Good evening, Harry," she greeted jovially. She was in muggle attire, though her hair was a dark purple and fell onto her shoulders in a fountain of curls. She was also smirking, knowing that Harry's relatives hated anything to do with the wizarding community. After a final sip, Tonks tossed the teacup and saucer in the air, causing Petunia to shriek. They disappeared with a faint popping sound. "Nice tan."

"Hello, Tonks," Harry said, trying not to laugh. He hadn't been expecting her, but he was happy to see her all the same.

"Excuse me," Vernon said with the most commanding voice he could muster in the face of a witch, "but we don't have any other rooms available. I'm afraid you'll have to stay elsewhere."

"That's no problem!" she said happily. "I'll be staying in Harry's room!"

Petunia gasped. Dudley began looking at Tonks in a different way.

"Absolutely not!" Vernon roared. "I'll not have any of that in this house!"

"I can see that," Tonks said, looking to Petunia sadly. It was apparent that none of the Dursleys had understood the joke, and she added, "I apologize that this is a little last moment, but I'm under official Ministry orders."

"_You_ work for their Ministry?" Dudley blurted out. "Doing _what_?"

Tonks laughed. "I'm an auror – kinda like a police officer. I know I don't look like much, but I can hold my own."

"An auror?" Dudley asked. "Isn't that what _you_ want to be, Harry?" he added, smirking.

"Harry will make a damn fine auror. He's already had more experience fighting dark wizards than _I_ do!"

"Dark?" Vernon said, adding sarcastically, "There's a distinction?"

Tonks quirked an eyebrow at this. "Of... of course, sir. Just like there are bad muggles, there are bad wizards."

"You're all a bunch of ruddy freaks." Vernon said dismissively. "Instead of frolicking around in dresses all day, maybe some of you should get a job."

"Er, beg your pardon, Mr. Dursley," Tonks said, obviously becoming perturbed, "but I _do_ have a job. I'm an auror, remember?"

"You chase down men in skirts," Dudley said. "How hard can it be?"

Tonks looked over at the massive boy. "I don't know, tubby. Let Harry get on his robes and see if you can outrun him."

"Tubby?" Vernon roared, sounding as if nothing could be farther from the truth. "My son is of a powerful build, all muscle, like his father! He's won the boxing tournament in his school and he's going to do it again this year!"

"Harry won the TriWizard tournament," Tonks said. "And he's dueled countless dark wizards!"

"Not really," Harry added weakly from the corner.

Vernon laughed. "I don't know anything about _his_ triple-nancy slapfight, and I don't know about the _dark_ freaks, but I know Dudley here can knock out a boy in his own weight class in 20 seconds flat!"

Tonks overlooked the easy joke about boys in Dudley's weight class. She actually looked somewhat baffled. "What is that supposed to mean?" she asked. "You know very well about dark wizards!" She rounded on Petunia, who was the only one that hadn't spoken. "Who do you think murdered your sister?"

"I don't know," Petunia said flatly. "No one would ever tell me his name." She advanced on Tonks, raising her voice slightly. "And, if I've got this straight, you're supposed to apprehend these... dark ones, right? Isn't the one that killed Lily still out there?"

"Yes," said Harry, shocked at his aunt.

"Then why are you _here_, instead of out _there_, LOOKING FOR HIM?" she yelled.

"Because _someone_ has to protect Harry from both He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and HIS RELATIVES!" Tonks shot back.

Petunia gasped. "And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?"

"Yes," Vernon joined in, shooting a terrifying glare to his nephew, "what has he been saying we're up to?"

"I haven't said anything," Harry responded weakly.

"You made him live in a broom closet – this one, here," she said, pulling the door open, "for ELEVEN YEARS!"

"It's more than he deserves," Vernon said angrily, his voice thick with malice.

There was a moment's pause as Tonks just stared at Vernon in shock, her mouth working silently. Then, suddenly, she drew her wand with a quick whipping motion. "If _that's _what the Boy Who Lived deserves, THEN I'LL GIVE YOU WHAT _YOU_ DESERVE!" she shouted. Harry recognized the wand movement, and tackled Tonks to the ground just in time to redirect her spell to the ceiling, where it fizzled out harmlessly.

Harry managed to pin her arms to the ground. "Tonks, please," he said quietly. She looked into his eyes for a brief moment, her anger still burning, and Harry knew he never wanted to be a dark wizard in her way. She managed to push him off with her knee and stood.

"S... sorry about that," she said quietly. She straightened her clothes and walked up the stairs to Harry's room, levitating the suitcase she had behind her. As she turned the corner at the top of the stairs, they heard a banging against a wall and the sound of glass shattering.

"Sorry," she said again.

Harry hurried up the stairs and cleaned up the broken glass on the floor, wondering what would have happened if he had let Tonks strike his uncle with a muting curse.

After showering, Harry returned to his room in his pajamas. Tonks was reading a book at the desk and whistled appreciatively as Harry entered, a towel draped around his shoulders. He rolled his eyes and shut the door behind him.

"Don't get any ideas," he warned, throwing on a very loose-fitting shirt.

"You're too young for me," she laughed. "I'd be more interested in someone my own age."

"And what age is that, exactly?" Harry asked, realizing he didn't know for sure how old she was.

Tonks smirked. "Old enough to be your babysitter for the evening, Mr. Potter."

"So _that's_ why you're here." Harry sat on his bed and picked up his fifth-year transfiguration textbook, which he had been spending quite a bit of time with recently. "And I guess you'll be with me all day tomorrow, too?"

"Of course. I'm your birthday present," she said, batting her eyelashes. Harry knew she was joking, but he still hid his face behind his book. He could feel his cheeks growing red.

"You're mental," he said, his voice shaking more than he wanted it to.

"And _you're_ blushing," she teased. She peeked out the window.

"I'm not sure why you're here," he said. "Everyone knows that Voldemort can't get through the wards."

She turned from the window and looked at him provocatively. "Well, maybe I'm not here for protection," she purred.

He stared at her open-mouthed for a moment. The girls at Hogwarts were one thing, but Tonks was a _woman_. She couldn't be older than twenty-five, he reasoned, and he wondered why she was talking to him like that. She couldn't mean it.

Could she?

"You're blushing again," she whispered, grinning.

"Yeah, well..."

"C'mon, Harry, you can talk to me." She poked his head. "What's going on in there."

Harry gulped. "That should probably be kept private," he muttered.

She laughed and sat back down in his chair by the desk. "I'm just messing with you," she teased.

No, she couldn't.

"That's not fair," he said, trying to play it as if he had been in on the joke the whole time. "How would you like it if I talked to you like that?"

She batted her eyelashes, which were suddenly longer and thicker than he'd noticed before. "Why, Harry, I'd be... surprised." Her eyelashes reverted to normal before she added, "Actually, I'm surprised you don't have a girlfriend."

He laughed. "And why is that?"

"Because you're cute," she said, sounding quite honest.

"Come off it," he said, rolling his eyes, hoping she would go on. He realized he'd never really been complimented like that before.

"No, really, Harry!" She stood up and grabbed his hands, jerking him off the bed and into a standing position. She backed up and looked at him for a moment. "Quidditch has been kind to you."

"Thanks," he said, blushing again. "Er... you too."

"Well, it wasn't quidditch, but training to be an auror certainly toned me... of course, I was always too flat-chested for the guys to pay any real attention."

"They're crazy," he blurted out.

She quirked an eyebrow. "Come again?"

"I think you're beautiful," he said, before he had a chance to stop himself.

She seemed genuinely happy to hear it. "You really are a sweet guy, Harry," she said quietly, kissing him on the forehead. "You could probably have your choice of any girl at Hogwarts... unless, of course, none of them are as lovely as me?"

The playful banter continued into the night. Harry eventually told her all about his disastrous date with Cho and his time at the Yule Ball the year before that. She even told him a few dating stories that made him feel better.

"So you don't think I completely ruined my chances with Cho?" he asked.

"Only one way to find out," she laughed.

Harry thought about that for a moment and looked at the clock. "Er... we have to wake up in five hours... I could sleep on the floor, you could..."

"I'm not taking your bed, Harry," she said. "At least, not without you in it." She stared at him intently for what seemed like several minutes before she laughed. Harry followed suit, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. If anything could break the monotony of summer, that would certainly do it.

"Get some sleep, kid," she said, tucking him in. Harry turned on his stomach as she grabbed for the covers to avoid her discovering his excitement. "I've got to stand guard all night."

"But the wards keep me safe here," Harry said.

"A little extra protection never hurt," she said, scratching his back. She stared at him like that, noticing him relax greatly under her touch. "Good night, Harry," she said, clicking off the lamp.

She had only taken a few steps away when she heard, "Er... Tonks?"

She looked back to the boy. "Yes?" she answered, stopping and turning back to him.

"Please don't stop doing that."

She agreed and continued until she heard him snoring softly. She stood carefully, so as not to wake him, and took a few moments to watch him. "If only you were a few years older," she whispered. He shifted in his sleep, rolling over to face the window. She took a long look at his face, peaceful in sleep and illuminated by the moonlight. "You're one hell of a guy, you know. If you're not careful, you're gonna break some hearts."

* * *

The next morning, Harry found himself being shaken awake. "Wha?" he asked sleepily.

He expected a reply from Tonks, but heard Lupin answer instead. "We're supposed to leave in an hour, Harry," he said softly.

"What time is it?" Harry asked, reluctantly pulling himself out of bed.

"Four in the morning. It's Dumbledore's orders," he added, almost apologetically. "Many of us were hesitant to let you get away from the wards here at the house, but Molly insisted that you can't stay here for too long."

Harry smiled. He got up and gathered the three books that were strewn around his bed lazily. Lupin watched him from the corner. "You're going to have to pick up the pace, Harry. We need to leave on time, and earlier if we can manage."

"I'm already packed," he protested, shutting the lid of his trunk. "Where's Tonks?"

"She's changing in the bathroom." he looked at Harry seriously. "I still don't think it was a good idea for her to be here last night."

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "Er... nothing happened."

"I wasn't worried about her. I was worried about you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks."

"It's nothing personal, Harry. It's just that you're sixteen and she's twenty-three. She's a _woman_."

"Er... right," Harry said. "I noticed." He was also going to correct Lupin about his own age when he realized today was the 31st.

"Is the birthday boy up yet?" Tonks said as she came in to the room, tripping over the clothes she had changed out of. Harry lunged forward and caught her before she tumbled to the ground. "Damn, you left those there?" she said angrily.

"You did," Lupin said.

"Oh, right..."

"I'm going to check and make sure everything's clear for our departure," Lupin said, now sounding very serious. "Would you shrink Harry's trunk and make sure everything is ready?"

For a short moment, she looked very angry. "Yeah," she replied flatly.

Lupin swept from the room and, when he was gone Tonks sighed heavily, beginning her work. Harry felt uncomfortable.

"I can help with that, you know," Harry offered to break the silence.

"Of course, because if I can't be trusted to look for signs of an ambush, which is _part of my job_, then how could I be trusted to cast a simple shrinking charm?!" she spat angrily, her voice quiet enough to not wake the Dursleys but furious enough to force Harry a step back.

"Err... I didn't mean it like that..." he offered. She ignored him and levitated his tiny belongings out the door.

Following, he asked, "How are we traveling?"

"By broom," she answered.

Harry's eyes lit up. "Really? I thought it would be by portkey or floo or..."

Tonks laughed. "The Minister still isn't too happy with Dumbledore," she said as they entered the kitchen.

"I don't trust anyone who doesn't trust Dumbledore," Harry said sourly as Lupin placed a disillusionment charm on him.

Tonks shrugged. "He's the one that pays me." She looked to Lupin. "Ready?"

He nodded. "Stay close and keep your eyes open. Remember, if anything happens, it's my turn to stay." He gave Harry a tight hug. "Happy Birthday. We'll talk after the visit to Diagon Alley."

"Wait," Harry said. "You're actually thinking of sticking around here with me?"

Lupin looked a bit confused. He turned to Tonks. "Didn't you tell him?"

Tonks looked embarrassed. "Oops."

"Tell me what?"

"Harry, you're not coming back here. We're going to headquarters." With that, he mounted his broom. "I'll take a final search in the air, follow at my signal."

Lupin rose steadily into the air. Harry looked to Tonks in shock. "You forgot to tell me that we're going back to Grimmauld Place?" he said angrily.

"Not right now, Harry," she sighed. "Watch for the signal."

"I can't believe you just forgot to tell me that!"

"I've had other things on my mind, alright?" she snapped. "There's the signal." Harry reeled back from her reply but shot into the air alongside her.

It surprised him how quickly flying cleared his mind. He was dreading going back to his godfather's house – at the Dursleys', he had yardwork and chores to distract him, but at Grimmauld Place he wouldn't be able to escape from Sirius's absence.

The trio flew in a V pattern, quickly making their way towards London. The flight was refreshing and uneventful – so much so that Lupin didn't even object when Harry spent a few moments flying upside down as he made circles around the other two fliers.

It was mid-morning when they landed outside of the Leaky Cauldron. Lupin bought three breakfasts – biscuits with a runny sausage gravy that Harry barely touched – to keep them all awake. After the two adults finished, they stood and made to leave.

"Wait... where are you going?" Harry asked.

"We're leaving," Tonks said. "Gotta get your stuff back to the house." She showed no signs of her earlier irritation, and Harry supposed that flying had cleared her head as well.

"And you're leaving me here alone?"

"Well, if you don't think you can handle it..." Lupin said, quirking an eyebrow.

Harry smiled. "I think I'll be alright. Thanks for the breakfast, again."

"Don't mention it," Lupin said, patting him on the back. "You take care, Harry, and happy birthday."

Harry wondered exactly why he was being allowed to wander freely among the wizarding community outside of Hogwarts, but he didn't dwell on it. He did dwell, however, on trying to find a way to get someone – preferrably female – to scratch his back as he fell asleep _every_ night.

It was two hours before Harry had company again. He didn't mind too much, using the time to practice transfiguration on his quill. The subject was never his best, and after quite a bit of effort, he had managed to turn it into a pencil.

"Are you _studying?_" he heard Hermione ask from behind him. Laughing, he welcomed her with a hug and noticed she had brought a friend that he didn't recognize.

Hermione launched into a recount of her summer so far. She explained the basic premise behind her memory-restoring draught and several advanced concepts that flew completely over his head, and she introduced Harry to her friend, Viktor Krum.

Harry looked to her friend, and it was only after a very close look that he was sure Hermione wasn't joking. Several things rushed through his mind at once – Viktor had always been very kind to Harry during the tournament and he had never shown any signs of supporting Voldemort, but he _was_ a Durmstrang graduate... "I didn't even recognize him," Harry said.

Hermione laughed. "Well, he wanted to be able to spend time with you today," she explained, "and he didn't want people hounding him for autographs. We placed a few charms on his hair and he even introduced me to a few spells that we tried out. No one will know it's him unless we tell them."

"Then why change his hair in the first place?" Harry asked.

"Well, it's what we thought of first," she said, shrugging. "Besides, I think he looks good as a blonde."

"I think I look stupid," Viktor said, laughing.

"Aren't you missing quidditch practice?" Harry asked.

"No, I fell off of my broom during speed drills two days ago," he said. "I broke my back in three places."

"Oh my God," Harry said, staring at the boy.

"At least, that's what his teammates and the press believe," Hermione said, chuckling.

"You faked an injury?" Harry asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Of course," he answered. "How else could I be given a leave to repeat my last year of school at Hogwarts?"

"You're joking," Harry said.

"Not at all," Hermione replied. "Durmstrang, as it turns out, doesn't have the most... reliable headmaster."

"You're joking," Harry said sarcastically.

"She's not," Viktor said, missing the point. "I hardly learned a thing in my first five years there – I didn't even notice it until I couldn't perform spells even students two or three years below me could."

"Karkaroff noticed his talent the first time he was on a broom," Hermione chimed in. "The greedy git couldn't help but exploit him. Viktor had to practice quidditch three hours a day and was pushed through classes without having to do homework."

Harry smiled.

"Don't you _dare_ say you don't see a problem with it, Harry," she warned.

"I didn't say anything," he relented.

"Three hours a day wasn't enough for him for long," Viktor said, rolling his eyes. "He stretched it out to four, five, even six hours during my last year."

"But... wait, you _are_ a good wizard," Harry said. "You were in the TriWizard tournament with me."

"Yes, but I barely made it through every task," he admitted. "I was even begging Hermininney for help, but she said she couldn't play favorites."

"Didn't stop you from trying," she said, laughing.

"The only reason I stood any chance was because I had been meeting in secret with professors for the past two years. I paid them to tutor me after curfew." As Viktor went on, Harry was growing to respect him more and more. He couldn't imagine sitting through classes _twice_ every day in addition to quidditch practice.

"You must be the most dedicated wizard at your school," Harry said, beyond impressed.

"She says the same thing about you," Viktor answered.

Harry, shocked, turned to Hermione. "Th... thanks," he said. "But I think you're more deserving of _that_ title."

In the quiet moments that followed, Viktor left to order a round of butterbeers. When he was gone, Hermione said, "Thanks, Harry."

"Well, you spend more time doing actual work in that school than... well, than _anyone_, including the professors. I wish I had some of your dedication," he said honestly.

"And I wish I had some of your talent so I could take a break once in a while," she chuckled.

"So, err... you and Viktor?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. I mean, I know we get along well, and I know that he can't just be coming back to Hogwarts because of Dumbledore..."

"So he's really repeating his seventh year?"

"Yeah."

"How old is he?" Harry asked, looking past Hermione and trying to guess. Viktor was tall and well built, but he was also a bit awkward when he walked, as if his feet weren't sure of the ground.

"Nineteen."

"He's a bit old for you, isn't he?"

"I'm older than you, remember?" she said. "I'm turning of age during the first month of school."

When Viktor returned with the drinks, Ron and Ginny arrived.

"Sorry we're late," Ron said. "Mum wouldn't let us go until we promised to meet Dad at Flourish and Blotts right at seven." The brother and sister took a seat at the table. "Happy Birthday, mate!"

Viktor stood and went back to the barkeep, Tom, and ordered two more butterbeers. Ginny scooted closer to Harry and gave him a hug. "Yeah, Happy Birthday!"

Ron beamed when a drink was set down in front of him. "Hey, Hermione, who's your friend?"

"Viktor."

"Hi Vick," Ron said. "Tell us Harry, were your relatives awful, or were they just..." he trailed off here, looking slowly back to her friend. "Viktor?"

"Hello, Ronald," Viktor said.

"_No way_," Ron breathed. "I know I already got one, but could I get your auto—OW!"

"Ron, he's _incognito!_" Hermione whispered.

Ron was rubbing his shin, as he had just been kicked under the table. "But I can understand him just fine!"

"That's _incoherent_," Ginny sighed. "Oh, Hermione, congratulations on the potion!"

"Thanks," she said.

"Dad told us you got special permission to go to Hogwarts during the summer," Ron added, turning to Harry. "Can you imagine being there with no students or teachers?"

"Professor Snape will be there," Hermione said, not sounding thrilled at the idea.

"I thought you were brewing it in your garage," Harry said, not wanting to let on exactly how jealous he was that she'd be able to spend time in Hogwarts using magic to her heart's content over the summer, with or without Snape present.

"Heh... funny thing, that," she said, sounding rather embarrassed. "It turns out that in excitement of preparing to brew the potion--"

"You can get excited about that?" Ron asked.

"--I neglected to take into account proper ventilation," she continued, not noticing Ron. "I spent a good five minutes with a third arm, my parents were going mental..."

"How did vapors from a memory-restoring draught make you sprout an extra limb?" Harry asked.

"Probably the Crudgletack's Weed," Viktor said.

"Oh, smart _and_ good-looking," Ginny teased.

"Hands off, you," Hermione warned.

With his peripheral vision, Harry noticed Ron rolling his eyes. When he turned to look at his friend, he noticed that another Hogwarts student had just entered the tavern.

"Luna!" he said, waving to get her attention. She looked a little taken aback by the enthusiastic greeting, but approached the table.

Everyone turned and looked at her. Ron turned back and rolled his eyes again. "Harry, don't invite her over here..."

"She _saved your life_, you prat," Ginny hissed.

"Have a seat and a butterbeer," Harry said. "Sit back down, you," he said to Viktor, who had made a motion to stand. "I've got this one."

"Oh, could I have your bottlecaps?" Luna asked, seeing the open bottles. "That is, if you're not using them..."

"What would we use them for?" Ron asked.

Luna didn't answer. She simply cocked her head to the side and stared at Ron for a moment. "I'm not sure," she said finally.

"How's your summer?" Hermione asked the blonde.

"Oh, it's been wonderful. Daddy and I found _seven_ new species of invisible toads in Ireland," she said. She looked doubtful for a moment, then added, "Or was it Turkey?"

Hermione did not looked nearly as amused by the idea of invisible toads as Harry or Ginny, but she didn't say anything.

"That wasn't the best part, though – daddy let me write an article on the eight-horned purklesnit for _The Quibbler_ after we found them in Uzbekistan!"

"Luna, there aren't any eight-horned purklesnits in Uzbekistan," Hermione sighed.

Luna looked deep in thought for a moment before replying, "You're right. They must have been in Ireland."

"I thought that's where the invisible toads were?" Ron said, looking confused.

"No, they were in Turkey," Luna said simply, as if this were common knowledge. "There aren't any invisible toads in Ireland."

Harry thought that it was Hermione's gratitude for Luna having saved Ron's life that she only challenged the existence of one of the magical creatures that the blonde mentioned.

Ron, although never being outright rude to Luna, was being fairly obvious about his distaste for her. Still, he handed over his butterbeer cap to the eccentric girl.

The rest of the day was spent shopping for books and supplies, which Harry was enjoying doing without an adult escort for once. He was feeling so good that he offered to buy everyone ice cream before Viktor reminded him it was his birthday. Instead, the quidditch star picked up the tab.

Although it was a very enjoyable day, Ron seemed in sour spirits. At first, Harry assumed that it was because his friend didn't like Luna, but even when she departed to meet back up with her father, his mood didn't improve.

"Look at this," Ron said angrily, tossing the nicest of the used books into his rusted cauldron. "I don't have a single book without cracked binding, and the transfiguration text is missing pages 200 through 208!"

Harry always hated buying supplies with Ron. He could hear Ginny off in another section of Flourish and Blotts, making jokes to Hermione and Viktor about what bad condition the used books were in.

"You could always get Hermione to help you with whatever is covered in those pages," Harry offered as a joke.

"Why don't I just get help from Krum, since he's so damn smart," he shot back. "And if I'm lucky, maybe he'll give me a _kiss!_"

"Ron..."

"I wish I was good enough to get signed onto a team. Then I wouldn't have to lift a finger except on game day. I'd have my pick of girls, too," he said smirking.

"I don't think it's exactly that easy," Harry said, knowing Ron wasn't present when Viktor had explained his past few years. "And what girls would you pick, anyway?" he added, mainly to change the subject.

"What does it matter? All the good ones are taken... who would you pick, Harry?" For the first time that day since learning who Hermione's friend was, Ron had grinned. Harry didn't really know an answer, but he made one up anyway, hoping it would keep Ron in a good mood.

"I dunno... Cho?"

"Her?" Ron asked. "Still?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm not saying I have a chance with her anymore, I'm just saying she's cute."

"I _guess_," Ron said, sounding disgusted. He looked around, making sure they were quite alone. "Lemme ask you this... remember a few years ago, when Hermione fixed her teeth with magic?"

"Yeah," Harry answered.

"Well, she's... y'know, looking a bit different, and..."

"Oh, Ron, I don't think--"

"She's been allowed to use magic unsupervised all summer!"

"Ron, I think she's just... I don't know, growing up. Everyone looks different – did you get a glance at Luna?" he ventured.

"Well, Harry, she's _always_ looked different."

"That's not what I meant."

"Don't tell me you've got a thing for her too, mate," Ron said.

"No, Ron, I'm just saying she's... you know, shaped up..." he added, feeling awkward.

"Who's shaped up?" Ginny asked, causing Harry to jump. "You're not talking about me, are ya?" she asked, drawing in close to him.

"Control yourself, Gin," Ron said, rolling his eyes.

Soon, Arthur Weasley arrived and paid for his children's supplies. He gave Harry a strong, fatherly hug, wishing the boy a Happy Birthday before leading the five of them back to the Leaky Cauldron, into an upstairs room with a small brass tag that read, "Exeunt."

"Goodbye, Hermininney," Viktor said, giving her a hug. He then left, giving them all a friendly wave. "It vos nice to meet you, Ginny, Mister Weasiley," he added.

Arthur produced an old newspaper from his pocket. "We're going back by portkey, so everyone hang on tight!"

Harry looked up at Mr. Weasley. "You're all staying at Grimm... er, headquarters with me?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course," Ginny said.

Harry smiled. It would be difficult being there, but having his friends around would help immeasurably. As they stood there, staring at the newspaper, listening to the countdown from Mr. Weasley, Harry looked across the group to Ron. His friend was watching Viktor leave with a look of disgust on his face, and he realized exactly Ron had meant by, "all the good ones are taken."


End file.
